


maybe i'll come home

by allisonmartined



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, background Laura/Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aka orange juice and small spaces<br/><i>He's not really sure how he ended up spending breakfast with Laura every morning, taking up space in Laura and Derek's apartment like it was his to take.  It was definitely Laura's fault. Definitely.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe i'll come home

"You know, there's a thing called the internet. World Wide Web, if you will." 

 

Laura lifts her head above the newspaper and wrinkles her nose. "I happen to like the written word, okay."

 

Her brown hair is messily tied together in a pony tail, and her curls bounce slightly as she tilts her head at him.

 

"Neanderthal," He bites.  It's not true, he actually likes words and pages, the way they smell like home.

 

She quirks her lips, a raise of her eyebrow, "Robot."

 

He grins at her lightly, his mouth full of egg and potatoes.  She smiles and takes a drink of orange juice. "You should go wake Derek," she says with a suggestive lift of her eyebrow.

 

"Laura," he groans.

 

"I'm just saying, unexpected things could occur, you never know."

 

He bites into an apple in retort.  He hates her so much sometimes.

 

She laughs, "You love me."  As if she's replying to his thoughts, as if she's _reading his mind_.  She probably is. _Fucking werewolves_.

 

+

 

He's not really sure how he ended up spending breakfast with Laura every morning, taking up space in Laura and Derek's apartment like it was his to take.  It was definitely Laura's fault. Definitely.

 

+

 

Derek stumbles out his room approximately three seconds before Stiles makes it to the door and back to his Jeep.  His hair is ruffled and his eyes are pleasantly hazed with sleep.  His clothes are messy and a sliver of skin shows where his t-shirt has ridden up.  He really needs to stop thinking about that skin.  Really, really, really.  It's quickly become a situation. A totally unwanted situation. Totally. Right.

 

"Morning, sourwolf," he calls with a small wave and half smile.  

 

Derek growls, and he takes that as a hello.  They have this routine down by now.

 

Laura shakes her head, but nobody notices her.

 

+

 

"Laur, you are bordering on obsession right now," he says leaning over the counter, waving his hands frantically.

 

She wasn't, she isn't.  But he hates the way she looks at him, like she can see through him into his _everything_.  And it's not even _fair_.  Because Derek and him are _nothing_.  Well they're friends.  He thinks he could call them friends? Friendly? Friendly with a side of hate?

 

Her lips curl in a frankly terrifying grin. "I thought we agreed that it was totally acceptable for me to toe the line of obsessive behavior."

 

He's trying to remember that conversation.  And he thinks when he was saying that, when those particular words passed through his lips, he was dying, or you know, on the _verge of dying_.  So, that totally doesn't count.

 

"You've totally jumped the line.  Like the line was _here_ , and you _leaped_ across it. What the _hell_ , Laur," he hisses.  He's only partially aware that she didn't actually _do_ anything, it's the implication that she could, that she totally _would_ do something.  He bites the inside of his mouth, because _really_.

 

She gives him a mock frown, "I just want my little brother to be happy, Stiles."  

 

"And what makes you think _this_ will make him happy," he waves his hand towards his chest and regrets it instantly.  Laura muffles a laugh, biting her lip.

 

"Because. You. Told me so."

 

"When I was _drunk_! Drunken declarations of infatuation do not count, Laura!  You and your werewolfy senses are not _allowed_ to take advantage of my brain when it is compromised! I'm pretty sure that's in the werewolf handbook.  Chapter seven : do not take advantage of Stiles when he is under the influence."  He can see the light glimmer in her eyes and decides to ignore it. "No Laura. This is not my fault."

 

There's a cough and Laura turns to see who is in line behind her.  A smile spreads across her face and Stiles' stomach plummets.   _No._

 

"What is this I hear about taking advantage of Stiles?"  Lydia Martin purs with a flip of her hair.

 

_For the love of god._

 

+

 

When an Alpha bit his best friend, Scott, Stiles was fairly certain that werewolves didn't exist.  Because, like, admitting werewolves existed meant admitting that a whole clusterfuck of other things could exist.  And, honestly, Stiles loved a good vampire movie but he did not want to come across a vampire, or anything really, in a dark alley. Or _anywhere_.  

 

So when Scott was bitten by a rogue Alpha, yeah, shit kind of hit the fan.

 

Laura, being of the Hales, who Stiles was pretty sure invented the BAMF gene, killed the Alpha and basically adopted Scott and by extension Stiles into her pack.  Someone needs to tell him when they started becoming a packaged deal, because _really_.

 

And somewhere along the line Laura Hale had decided they were kindred spirits or something.  And that didn't bother Stiles at all because honestly Laura was _awesome_.

 

+

 

Lydia grins at him with a toothy grin that looks more like a threat than anything.

 

Laura wraps her arm around Lydia's waist and sniffs the space behind her ear in a way that is _not at all_ subtle.  "Hello, darling," Lydia whispers into Laura's hair.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes. 

 

"This is about Derek," Lydia says more than asks.  Laura hums into her skin. _Seriously, people, public store._

 

"I hate you both," he mutters before turning his back to them.

 

He hears Lydia laugh behind him, cruel and knowing.

 

+

 

Honestly, if he thinks about it, he knows exactly when the breakfasts started.  

 

It was after a particularly gruelling showdown with the hunters in which apparently the universe thought it fit to stick Stiles and Derek into the trunk of Victoria Argent's car.  Why hadn't Derek been able to rip that trunk apart in classic Hale fashion? Oh, yeah, that might have been the wolfsbane lined interior.   _Fucking hunters._

 

Anyway. So small places plus Derek Hale plus you know, _not so innocent_ feelings on Stiles' part equals awkwardness.  Like major _cut it with a fucking samurai sword_ awkwardness.  And, _really_ , Stiles is not willing to take all the blame here because if Derek talked, like _ever_ , maybe Stiles wouldn't feel the need to completely fill the silence with words. Right, _yes_.

 

Suffice to say that when they were finally ripped away from that car shaped prison, Derek was looking at him like he was the worst thing to ever exist and Laura was dragging him back to their apartment with the promise of sleep and breakfast.  Why he didn't argue that he had those things at _home_ , he's not really sure.  He blames Derek and the samurai awkwardness.

 

+

 

So, it becomes a thing.  Stiles risks his life, is tortured, trapped, _whatever_.  Usually with Derek, but sometimes with Laura.  And in one very rare case with Scott and Allison.  And then he finds his way, or is dragged, depending on the day, back to the Hale apartment.  

 

He sleeps on the couch, which really is insanely comfortable and he doesn't really know _how_.  Laura and Derek's scents intermingle, and it feels like home.

 

He knows that sometimes Laura hates being the Alpha, the responsibility boils on her skin.  And it makes her hyper aware of everything.  Always trying to be the hero.  Always trying to take the fall, the guilt, the everything.  Sometimes he can see that in Derek too, the responsibility weighing on him, dragging him down.  The fire and the smoke behind his eyes.  

 

Stiles breathes in their scents and wishes he could take that away from them.

 

+

 

They don't talk about their family much.  With Derek it's guilt, searing and scarring, acid down his throat, and with Laura it's clear cut avoidance. 

 

The charred remains of the Hale estate towers ominously between them, but it binds them together too.

 

+

 

Lydia and Laura are sprawled out on the couch, Lydia's head resting in Laura's lap, and Allison and Scott are sitting in the big recliner, sharing the same space.  It's late, too late, the sun is teetering on the edge of rising and Stiles sits next to Derek on the floor, their knees barely touching.

 

It's quiet, wordless, but for once Stiles doesn't feel the need to fill the silence.

 

+

 

Laura grins at him over breakfast and he eyes her warily.

 

She takes a drinks of orange juice, laughing into the glass.

 

When Derek comes out, bedraggled but with a tiny grin he decides to ignore her.

 

Because, honestly, Laura Hale is _awesome_ but he has other concerns.

 

And those concerns are looking right at him with a cocked eyebrow and a hidden grin.

 


End file.
